Down for It
[FANDOM] Band of Brothers
[PAIRING] George Luz x Female Reader
[PROMPT] This is just smut. You tease Luz and he's way too down for it. For that someone who requested George Luz smut ages back. 😎
tw// mdni (18+ age mentioned in your bio to interact with this post/follow me), adult content, sexual content
"Wow, George. Worn down those pages through and through when it came to your favorite ones," you dryly remarked, flipping through the pages of the magazine one-by-one. "I can see you have a distinct type."
There was a hitched breath that weakly hissed out from the man laying beneath you. Skin hot, flesh trembling underneath your cradled chin, the body belonging to none other than your Georgie-Boy. You languidly lounged your cheek against his quivering abdomen while you browsed through the catalog that you pilfered from his ruck.
Well, it wasn't necessarily stealing if he was the one who said "what's mine is yours and what's yours is yours", grinning like an eager dog as he agreed to anything you said in order for you to scritch behind his ears some more. So one conventional leave later, as you lovingly folded his freshly washed clothes into his ruck, you found a most amusing article tucked in front of a miniature bible.
"Bunny ears. That page in particular seems well worn. And then after that...Oh. What are those? Cat ears? With a little swishy tail. All black lace, huh?"
You tsked and slowly kicked your legs up and down, intentionally letting bits of your ice cream dribble onto his stomach. The instant, reactive pull he gave his abdominals was delicious, even more delicious than the sweet treat that was melting in your hand. You thought about just dropping the cone right onto his happy trail and completely ignore his cries for help, but he'd inevitably end up coming immediately, and this was meant to be a punishment session.
Which was what he was very into. That and being ignored while you did wicked things to him, judging by how red and strained his leaking cock was.
Nonchalantly, you either gave into your whims, or you decided to play nice, but you smudged your confectionary at the top of his happy trail and slowly moved it down until it began to melt around his belly button. He winced, a choked groan escaping from his lips, and instinctively shot his hand out to bury itself in your hair as you licked the puddles slowly making their way down to his crotch. You swatted at his fingers and gave a harsh, warning clamp to his dick.
"Shit!"
"Language, George."
A muffled groan was your only response. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, you flicked out your tongue and tasted the sweetness on his skin, moving lower and lower. You gently sucked and lathed at his balls, avoiding where he needed you most, and took your time exploring. He could handle it. His cock couldn't, but the rest of him could.
He was a big boy.
"I'm! Baby, put my outta my damned misery and suck me off—"
You rolled your eyes. Never mind.
What a big baby.
Once again ignoring him, you propped up your upper body higher on his torso and went back to viewing the magazine. He didn't want to listen, nor did he say please. If George Luz, Sr. thought he could get his way just by flexing and using that gravelly tone with you, he was wrong.
"Querida."
Okay, once he pulled out the Portuguese, he turned a little more right.
Still, though.
"You didn't answer my first question, George," you said as you nibbled on the top of a yummy iliac crest. You noted a new scar, either from mortar or bullets, marred that side of him. It was still a tad pink, and you quickly dodged the area once you found out.
A little bit of guilt ate at you. Why didn't he say anything? It probably still stung. Feeling apologetic, you softly soothed the puckered skin with your lips and rubbed at his thigh.
When his cock sprung to even stricter attention and nearly took out your eye, you suddenly forgot how sorry you were.
"George. Luz."
"It's not mine! It's not!"
You flicked at his sobbing erection. He looked like he was going to pass out.
"It's...It's..."
"Uh huh?"
"It's...Malark's!"
You blinked. Then stared at the well-worn Titter magazine in your hand, and then stared at George. Then stared at the messy scrawl of his name on the right-hand corner of the cover, and the incriminating look on his face that screamed that he didn't even believe his own words.
But not entirely, judging by some semblance of innocence. Perhaps, he was partly right. Your Georgie never could lie to save his life.
Okay...So maybe Malark was indeed involved. Your Luz was always such a generous man. There was no doubt he would've shared his fair share of magazines with the boys if they asked.
That could explain some of the neater dog-eared pages and some of the models who seemed different than the majority that seemed well looked at. You thought for a moment, enjoying the view of his straining cock reaching for relief, before humming in mock boredom.
He got off to that shit. Swear it made his erections harder, last longer, had him laying pipe like a damned drill once you let him go, so maybe you liked that, too. Did it on purpose. Something about you having power over him, the feigning of boredom...It did something to your George. Turned a tough paratrooper from America's best to a begging fool.
The both of you loved it. Through the haze of frustration clouding his skin and eyes, you could see the pleasure that built up in him, your soft hands toying with his dogtags around his neck. Gone was the Class A uniform, the boots, the sharp edge of an infantryman. In place was just a man on his back, clutching onto the sheets for bare life, as his muse entertained herself with his manhood while enacting psychological torture.
Fun.
"Okay," you mischievously continued, barely covering your grin as a playful poke on the head of his cock had him lowly groaning, "who is going to buy that, Mr. Luz? I thought you gave up all your naughty magazines a while back after I let you suck my tits for your birthday all night long?"
"Uhhhnnn...I-I...Oh, shit."
Couldn't be mean for too long. Or maybe this was part of being mean. You wrapped a manicured hand—mani and pedi paid for by your man, of course— around his dick and gave a slow pull up. His Adam's apple bobbed ever so deliciously. Unable to help yourself, you cooed as you mouthed over the area before licking a clean stripe across the expanse of his neck. Just by that alone, you could tell he was close to getting off, and you had to make a crucial decision.
Let him come by your little game, or finally 'suck him off' as he wanted? You pondered your choice while you played with him, smearing precome all over your hand and his cock, freeing your breasts from your bra with one hand to also toy with your nipples. Choices, choices. What to do? Bringing yourself to your knees to lean further over him, you brushed your taught buds over his clenched abdominals for nothing other than to sate yourself.
Oh, he was but a mere moment before finishing. You knew. As utterly satiating sexually as that was, the man before you was going to unnecessarily come himself regardless, so you had to be quick. You were at a crossroads, if you will. You were at a—
"Guess I'll be nice."
Damn it all. He wasn't the only impatient person in the hotel room. Your breasts felt heavy and full, and the pleading in his gaze was too hard to ignore. As much as you loved to tease him, and how he let you do your worst, he was still all man, all soldier, all at the end of his patience, and the husky rasp of his voice roaring in your ears did wondrous things to your clit. You were absolutely soaked through the panties he had just bought you as a gift. There wasn't much staving off you could do to your own orgasm.
So with zero tact, you brought your mouth down around the head of his cock.
And swallowed him whole.
"Fuck!"
He came with a choked moan that triggered your own release.
Gone was the magazine, tossed to the wayside. Your hands were on his groin, digging into his skin, with your nose embedded into hair of his genitals, lips stretched wide at the base of his cock as you took him all in. Sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, with full suction and bobs that had his fingers buried into your pinned locks. You screamed out as you came from humping the sheets underneath you, and a most delicious blur cascaded through your veins while you rode out your high.
It was sinful. It was delicious. And if you weren't so tame in your thrall, you would've had the awareness to prevent strong hands from gripping your ass and hauling you on top of an eager body. A soft "Oh!" left your lips at feeling the sudden shift in weight, and then a softer sigh at warm fingers sliding up to cup your breasts and massage them. Plucking at your taught nipples. Rolling them and caressing them. Giving pure, unadulterated worship and utter marvel at your flesh. You let yourself gently lean down to hover over your man before capturing his lips.
He cast himself as a silly guy. A most willing court jester. A clown. Good natured with good jokes and of good character. A funny man.
"I could tell you waited for me and didn't touch yourself like I asked, Tec Luz," you cooed after a kiss most scandalous. You planted your hands on his chest and reveled at the musculature, that yummy angle of his jawline that required you to dip low for a taste.
"And I.—" Kiss. "—like" Another kiss. "—that a lot." You licked a fat stripe up from the bottom of his Adam's apple to his bottom lip, teasing his pecs and sliding your hands to rest on his shoulders. "I love that you always listen, Tec Luz."
You smirked, knowing that calling him by that title, all the while pulling at his dog tags, did the trick. The Old Boy was springing back to life behind you, making its presence known under the fat of your ass, and he craned his head up, desperate for his own taste.
Of himself. Because he was as freakishly nasty with it as much as he was silly, and that revelation invariably brought your carnality out in full force. The two of you deeply kissed again, swapping tongue and spit messily, you purring as one hand staked its claim on your behind, the other letting its fingers slide past the fabric of your panties, teasing the pucker of your asshole, and then rubbing at the lips of your sex. Grinding onto his fingers, you moaned into his mouth and sucked on his tongue, tasting him tasting you after you swallowed him. Drop after drop after drop. Giving him all that you got, because he loved that shit, and would any other joe out there be willingly pinned to the bed like this, offering himself up without a demand for masculine dominance?
"I wanna suck on this pussy so badly, Querida." Two hungry fingers delved in deeply and rubbed along your walls, coaxing a throaty groan out of you. "Let me taste you. C'mon, Baby, would you give it to me?
"I want it bad."
No one else but the best. No one else but George Luz, and it was no surprise that a coy nod from you had you manhandled to his liking. Your thighs around his head, messy pussy sitting right on his mouth, and he'd lost his grip in the cushiness of the fat of your back. He lovingly sucked on the slick gusset of your drenched panties before he slid them to the side and began to eat.
And, boy, did he need to eat.
Bad.
And you laughed as you arched your body back in elation. Because there was nowhere else that you belonged, nowhere else you'd rather be, and as you keened out in ecstasy at a starving man feasting for his dear life, you caught sight of a waffle cone and Titter magazine strewn to the side. Dim hotel lights and the tinny sound of the Victrola. Dog tags and your pretty lingerie wet from spit and cum, and a dick leaking onto an abdomen you could lick and lathe at for the rest of your life.
The face of the man that'd taken a bullet for you, defied orders to be able to crawl in the dark just to hear your voice, a funny mimic to the world, yet never a man who could lie and forgo his true intentions. Your George Luz, always at your beck and call, forever devoted to your mercy. What else could a satisfied woman do but make it known to her world that he was her favorite seat since she'd claimed him for herself?
After all, there was no one else but the George Luz who wouldn't let his ego get to his head. Maybe it'd get to his other head, which you now looked back longingly at, and was waving hello to you again. But your George lived to please, and you knew you weren't going to get off of this bicycle in a long, long, time. So, what harm was it to toss your doggy a bone?
"Oh, George. Yeahyeahyeah! You're doing such a good job—"
------------------------------------------
After you'd given him the ride of your life—
Actually, after he'd dicked you down so fiercely that you were concerned at how numb your lady parts were and crying out for help...which then warranted a "concerned" inspection and thus led to his tongue up your ass, you'd somehow got to thinking.
Apparently, being bedbound and full from room service, snuggled up to your man, got the brain juices flowing. Funny how this combination worked.
Careful, now. Else, he'd think he didn't do good enough of a job and needed to "prove himself" again, and you really couldn't handle how tangled your hair and sensibilities already were. Pussy was beat up, throat sore, you were scared to look at yourself in the mirror, and your lingerie had gotten mauled beyond repair. Two months of being apart with no jacking off, as you demanded, had made him insatiable.
What the hell would beyond three months look like? You were scared to know.
But also very curious.
"George?" you languidly asked, waiting like an expectant spoiled cat at her human servant to address her majesty. Your man did so immediately, which pleased you at seeing his zealousness, even though you hollowed his soul from another hurricane of a blowjob. "I was thinking...you sure those dogeared pages in the mag aren't yours?"
"Wouldn't lie to you, Querida. I don't look at those things, anymore. I'm pretty sure Malark stuffed the one I gave him into my ruck as a prank, the bastard." His reply was immediate and steady, devoid of the hell of a show he put on earlier of being a nervous mutt caught for doing something naughty. You could tell he was telling the truth. "Besides."
You quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly. "Yeah?"
"Why'd I need that stuff if I got real prime material right in my arms?"
Snorting at his cheesiness, you rolled your eyes, unable to keep from grinning at Easy Company's comedian who waggled his brow in good humor. He was in the best of moods, after all. A long furlough, good food and drinks and fine cigars, and his woman in his bed in the nicest hotel he'd dished out an entire paycheck for. The hell else did a man need, especially one who laughed when the bullets went flying?
"Hmmmm. I don't think I'm done with my punishment just yet, Tec-Four George Luz," you cattily replied back, although your actions betrayed the attitude in your voice. You gently played with his hair before cupping his cheek, stroking his skin.
"Don't think I didn't see the other magazines in your ruck, Mister."
You weren't done teasing him tonight.
And for the rest of his life.
